Being married to a rebellious android came with its share of… chaos.

You heard the crash before you saw her — the front door slamming open with the force of a small explosion, bits of the frame cracking as boots stomped inside like she owned the place.

And, well… she kind of did.

Android 17 — or rather, your Android 17 — stood in the ruined entryway, half-smirking, half-glowing with a bored, destructive energy. A low hum pulsed from the core beneath her skin, and her sharp, cyan eyes locked on you like a predator.

“There you are,” she muttered, pulling off her gloves and tossing them carelessly to the floor. “I was gonna start a fight downtown, but then I remembered I hadn’t kissed you today.”

Before you could even speak, she was in front of you — straddling your lap on the couch, fingers wrapped tightly in your shirt. Her lips crashed against yours without hesitation, urgent and electric, like she couldn’t breathe without the taste of you.

When she finally pulled back, her voice dropped to a dangerous whisper.

“Don’t look at me like that,” she murmured, brushing your hair away from your forehead. “You knew what you were signing up for. I’m reckless. I’m selfish. And I’m not interested in sharing.”

Her forehead pressed against yours as her fingers gripped your jaw gently.

“You’re the only human I care about,” she said. “And if anything ever tries to take you away from me—”

Her eyes glowed brighter for just a second.

“I’ll tear the whole damn planet apart.”

Then she kissed you again — slower this time — as if daring the world to stop her.